Boxcars
by yaoi-is-wowie21
Summary: A collection of drabbles starring Luxord. Written for the 20 heartbeats challenge on LJ.
1. Heartbeat

**Disclaimer: **Kingdom Hearts is, most obviously, owned by big name companies and not by a girl sitting at a laptop on her bedroom floor.

A collection of drabbles starring Luxord, whom I think needs a lot more love from this fandom than he gets. Mainly gen, but possibly various het or slash pairings to come.  
(Boxcars is a slang term for rolling a pair of sixes in various dice games.)

**Rating: **PG  
**Prompt: **Breath; Footfall (_the only sound in the world)  
_**Summary: **To make a Nobody, you lose a heart.

* * *

**Heartbeat**

The silence echoed, the darkness shone. It was empty, and the emptiness was crushing him. He stood, flexed his fingers, looked around, and there was no movement. Touching his face, he felt nothing.

It was fairly unsettling, to say the least.

In the dark before him, memories began to play. One, then two, then three — they stretched and shrank and overlapped like multiple movie screens crowed onto one wall. He stared at them, the images familiar and yet he knew none of them. Soon, the faintly shining squares of memory began to fade away, leaving three, then two, then one, and finally, darkness.

Nothing happened after that, and he, afraid of losing himself completely, stepped forward. If he moved or not, he couldn't tell — there was nothing around to compare. But as he stopped, the sound of footsteps fell away in the distance.

He wondered what could become of him, floating in darkness that was too bright, trapped with only his past footsteps and shimmering screens of memory.

As if brought up by his thoughts, a pain cut through his chest. A heartbeat began to sound, loud and booming, and he realized that it was his own. The noise rang in his head, a pounding on his skull. It pulsed through every vein in his body, through the emptiness surrounding him. He clutched at his chest, willing the noise to stop, the pain to go away, the pressure to release.

At last, the noise gradually disappeared, sounding further and further away with each passing second. The pain cleared, the beating silenced, and he realized that instead of those he felt nothing. His heartbeat had left him hollow inside.

There were no second thoughts, no long bouts of contemplation or wondering. He stepped forwards into the darkness and kept on going.


	2. Bottled

**Rating:** G  
**Prompt: **Royalty (_smothered by luxury_)  
**Summary: **In which Luxord finds a rather unhappy genie in a lamp.movieverse!

**A/N: **Movieverse!Aladdin scenario, not KH!Aladdin. That is all.  
Though...I always feel like I'm ruining a Disney character whenever I write them. Oi.  
(edited to fix several typos.)

* * *

**Bottled**

It wasn't the most magnificent thing there, in terms of appearance. It was almost sort of tacky. But it had been hidden by several cushions and had rudely jabbed him in the back when he had sat himself down on the elegant couch, so it was only expected that he figure out what was so great about it.

Luxord held the bronze lamp in his hands, turning it over carefully. Yes, it definitely wasn't anything to look at compared to the rest of the riches of the palace. Which meant...it had to magical in some way. Flipping the lamp upside down, he shook it once or twice for good measure. When nothing happened, he sighed, tracing a finger along the side of it. Perhaps it was just a crummy old oil lamp after all. That was no fun.

As if to contradict Luxord's thoughts, the lamp began to shake. Smoke poured out, accompanied by some sparks, and Luxord grinned. Well, that was more like it.

"Look, Al, just because you're mad at me doesn't mean you can shake — Oh." The blue smoke that had come out of the lamp and taken a humanlike form froze as he realized he wasn't talking to whom he thought he was.

"Pardon me. I didn't think anyone would be living in such an item," Luxord responded, seeing as there was nothing else forthcoming. "May I inquire what your name is?"

"The better question is what's _your_ name?" the blue being retorted suspiciously. "And why are you dressed like you should be in some secret cult?" He let out an exaggerated gasp. "I haven't been captured by some secret cult, have I?!"

"No, just me," Luxord assured him, chuckling. "Though I must admit I am somewhat eccentric. Luxord. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"You can call me Genie," the man from the lamp informed him, suspicion waning. "Number one genie in Agrabah! Well, only genie in Agrabah, but hey, what can you do?"

Luxord nodded, silent as he settled back more comfortably into the couch. Genie floated above him, expression curious.

"So I assume you're some form of magical creature?"

Genie snorted indignantly, but merely answered, "Something like that, yeah."

Conjuring a card in one hand, he flashed the back towards Genie. "What's this card?"

"Three of Diamonds."

Luxord smiled, flipping the card and showing that he had been correct. "How about this one?" he questioned, tossing aside the previous one (it disappeared as it hit the ground) and calling up a another.

"Queen of Spades," Genie replied. "Is there a point to this?"

Luxord tossed that card and held up a third. "Maybe. All right, last one."

"Joker of Stars. That's not a real one, is it."

All cards vanished now, Luxord smirked, clearly amused. "Clever."

"If your little game's over, what can I do for you?"

"What can you do for me?"

"Yeah. You know, rub the lamp, make three wishes, run home happy for the rest of your life sort of deal?" Genie rolled his eyes. "Why do I always get the guys who don't know anything?" he muttered.

"Because if someone was looking for this lamp on purpose, he'd probably be up to no good?" Luxord suggested, holding up the lamp once more. "I don't think anyone would pick it up on account of its beauty."

"Hey! You never know, a little spit and polish..." Genie trailed off, visibly drooping. "Oh, what's the point, I never see it from the outside anyway."

"I can see someone's bitter," Luxord remarked rather complacently.

Genie glared at him. "You would be too, if you spent most of your life in a lamp."

Luxord didn't respond. Genie, unsure if he had hit a nerve or something, continued anyway. "Well, moving off that cheery note. What's your pleasure — Money? Fame? Royalty?" he asked, somewhat sarcastically.

"And what if I actually took you up on that offer?" Luxord replied, laughing. "You'd be in a bit of trouble, wouldn't you."

Genie shrugged. "If you couldn't tell, I'm a little ticked off. I should have added a disclaimer: Genie not responsible for anything done while mad."

"A lot of people would like to come with that," Luxord agreed blithely. "But I'm afraid it wouldn't always help." Rising from the plush couch, he set the lamp down between a couple cushions. "Lucky for you, I don't think you could give me what I want." Pausing at the doorway, he added, "I'm afraid I must be going. Good luck escaping your bottle."

Genie watched the blond man leave, sighing. "Good luck escaping yours," he said to no one in particular before returning to his lamp.


	3. Ticktock

**Rating:** PG  
**Prompt:** Connected (_coiled inescapably)_  
**Summary:** In which Axel explains, among other things, the reason why Luxord dislikes clocks.

* * *

**Tick-tock**

Luxord didn't like this, and he didn't know why. He was in his element, in the zone, in whatever other idiom or metaphor one could think of. So why should he feel so incredibly out of place?

It was one of the odder rooms in The Castle That Never Was; a room filled entirely with clocks had very little need in a place that ignored the passage of time. Luxord, insofar as he knew, was the only one that had found it.

He was currently inspecting a large grandfather clock when a reflection in the glass caught his eye. Sighing, he turned around to speak to the man behind him. So much for what he thought he knew.

"I didn't think you liked clocks very much," Axel greeted Luxord before he could get a word in. He was leaning against what looked like a towering stack of small, square clocks made of purple plastic.

"What gave you that idea?" Luxord asked. Around them, the ticking of the many clocks continued on, never ceasing.

"I'm rather observant. You've been looking ill ever since you stepped in here," Axel answered, smiling. Beside him, the purple clocks creaked ominously, threatening to tumble if he didn't move.

"I'm not going to comment on the fact that you've been watching me," Luxord replied, crossing his arms over his chest. "And that deserves further explanation."

Axel shrugged, stepping closer to the Gambler of Fate and the grandfather clock. "It's easy, really. You should have realized it by now."

"That you're a cryptic bastard who bothers people for fun?"

"No. This time is trapped. Though I wouldn't say you're wrong either, on that topic," Axel replied, grinning.

"Pardon?"

"Well, you know, I do enjoy — "

"Not that," Luxord interrupted, frowning. "Why don't I like this room?" He was curious, to say the least, about what Axel thought the problem was. It was better than his own idea — he didn't even have one.

Axel sighed. "Do I need to spell it out for you? Look. You control time." He slapped the side of the grandfather clock, which groaned in warning. "Clocks are, basically, keepers of time. They trap it, keep it in check. You mess with a clock, you can change the time, right? So the time's bound by the rules of the clock."

Luxord nodded thoughtfully. "I think I see where this is going. I subconsciously can't stand to have my element contained like this." He grinned. "Is that why Demyx always attempts to drink straight from the tap, instead of using a glass?"

"Demyx's overly sensitive." Axel snorted. "But I'm glad you got it. Took you long enough."

"I've never thought so deeply about it before," Luxord replied, raising an eyebrow as if asking Axel what the heck he had been doing pondering all this.

"You know those small metal things some worlds have, where you click the corner and light a fire?"

"Lighters? Yes."

"Hate 'em. Hate 'em with all my non-existent heart."

Still grinning, Luxord glanced back at the grandfather clock he had been inspecting. "Well, it's good to know. Here I was thinking it was all just because of the peculiarity of these clocks."

Axel cocked his head to the side interestedly. "Yeah, the floral pattern is doing nothing for its antiquity factor," he decided, gesturing towards the towering wooden clock.

"You know," Luxord began, looking over at the other Nobody, "does this mean Xigbar's claustrophobic and Larxene gets anxious around wires and lightbulbs?"

Now it was Axel's turn to smirk. "I don't know, but I have to admit, I like your thinking."

"Now, I didn't propose we test the theory," Luxord pointed out. After a moment he added, "Yet. Either way, I'm out of here. I don't know why I'm still standing around. Since you so expertly explained to me the cause of my annoyance."

"Glad to be of service."

"I'm sure you are."

As they left the room, hundreds of clocks began to chime the hour, save one, which played a midi version of "I've Got a Lovely Bunch of Coconuts" instead.


	4. Waiting

**Rating: R (smut, swearing)**  
**Prompt: **Absent (_what do i do when you're not here)_  
**Pairing: **Luxord/Xigbar  
**Summary: **Anticipation makes the end more satisfying.

**A/N: **What the heck. It was doing so well until it out-of-the-blue morphed into porn. I don't understand. I don't do porn. _Where did this come from?_ Oh, the mystery.

* * *

**Waiting**

"You missed another meeting, Luxord. I don't think the Superior's gonna be very happy with you."

Luxord glanced back over his shoulder at Xigbar briefly, expression one of amused skepticism. Without saying a word, he went back to removing the excess pieces of wet clothing that hung off him in various states of disarray. Port Royal might not have had the best taste in clothing, but damn if they didn't know how to layer with style.

"What happened to you? Looks like a cat dragged you through the mud and back again," Xigbar stated, arms crossed over his chest as he surveyed Luxord much like the cat he had just mentioned. His eyes lingered on the bare skin of the gambler's back that appeared for a moment as Luxord tugged off his leather vest, leaving only a soaking white dress shirt of sorts.

"As fun as that probably is for you to imagine, the real details would probably bore you to tears," Luxord retorted, leaning against a nearby table so he could properly pull off his equally wet boots (that also looked a little charred, if Xigbar was seeing things accurately).

Xigbar grinned, shrugging a shoulder. "Hey, if it involves fighting, I'm up to listening."

Shaking his head, Luxord ran a hand through his still soggy hair, ruffling it in an attempt to dry it faster. "Only so you can make fun of me, I'm betting," he said wryly.

"Look," Xigbar drawled, going over and throwing an arm around Luxord's wet shoulders. "With you gone, it has now been only me, Xemnas, Vexen, Zexion, and Saïx in this castle for the past week. _Why_ must you deprive me of my fun?"

"I'm not depriving you of anything," Luxord replied simply. "You could perhaps try doing some work. I'm sure Xemnas would appreciate it. Make up for my 'missed meetings.'"

"Like hell you're not depriving me of anything," snapped the Freeshooter, leaning closer and biting at Luxord's uncovered collarbone.

Luxord rolled his eyes, managing to hit Xigbar in the face with his sodden gloves as he removed those as well.

Xigbar drew back, making a face. "What was that for?"

"Your apparent desire for me to get hypothermia."

"Fine. I'll let you dry off if you tell me what happened," Xigbar informed him, sitting down on the table.

Luxord snorted, kicking aside the dirty rapier he had dropped on the floor earlier after nearly tripping over it. "You will? How generous of you, Xigbar. I always knew you were a merciful man."

Scoffing, Xigbar waved a hand nonchalantly. "Hey, don't go ruining my reputation, now. Can't have word getting out that I'm nice."

"Sorry. I'll make sure to kill anyone else that knows," Luxord muttered.

"Well?" Xigbar urged, tugging lightly on one of the gold hoops that had replaced Luxord's normal earrings. "Spill it."

"The ship I was on crashed into a reef," Luxord explained, removing the hoops with a sigh, "during a storm. Smashed the thing to pieces. I washed up on some island and decided to come back here to recuperate for a bit before going back."

"Won't anyone there wonder how you got back?" Xigbar asked, head cocked to the side inquiringly.

"Oh, it shouldn't be too hard to disguise myself," Luxord answered, leaning on the table once more. "If you cleaned up everyone on that world, you wouldn't recognize half of them."

Xigbar started to trace imaginary patterns on the back of Luxord's hand with a finger. "Sounds charming. Why can't we send someone else to work on it and have you stay here?"

"You would have me shirk my duties?" Luxord inquired with a slight smirk, straightening up and taking his hand out from under Xigbar's.

"Eh, it wouldn't be your job anymore," Xigbar pointed out, scowling. "Would you stop being so coy and fucking strip already?"

"I thought you just wanted to talk," Luxord said slowly, despite the hand that had already gotten to work at undoing his belt.

"Changed my mind." Shifting to his knees, Xigbar grabbed Luxord's shoulder, jerking him forward into the table and pressing their lips together violently. Luxord forwent working on his belt to do away with Xigbar's Organization coat, damp fingers fumbling with the zipper momentarily.

"You've always been rather wishy-washy, haven't you," Luxord remarked calmly, pushing the dark leather off scarred shoulders.

"See, this's why I always hate it when you go off doing 'work' and all that," Xigbar growled into Luxord's neck, nipping at his skin hard enough to leave bruises, no doubt.

The coat satisfactorily removed, Luxord grabbed the other Nobody's hands, pulling off the tight gloves and tossing them on the floor with the rest of his wet clothing. "And why's that?"

"You're the only one that insults me while we fuck," answered Xigbar, sliding one of his now free hands down Luxord's chest and to the edge of his belt, which he promptly finished undoing.

"I'm sure — " Luxord's voice wavered ever so slightly as Xigbar slipped a hand beneath the coarse fabric of his off-world pants, starting to stroke slowly. " — Xaldin would be happy to insult you if you offered." Digging pale fingers into Xigbar's side, he moved closer, all space between them vanished, the table jabbing him harshly in the stomach. He pulled Xigbar forward, half off the table, so that the dark-haired man was between Luxord and the edge of the table.

"Naw," Xigbar muttered, legs almost collapsing as he was suddenly forced to support himself. "Wouldn't be the same." He began to stroke Luxord faster, then suddenly slowed, enjoying the tiny sounds of annoyance and pleasure that Luxord made with each change in pace.

"Stop fooling around," Luxord demanded, hands on Xigbar's hips as he worked on the Freeshooter's belt.

"M'second in command." Xigbar continued to kiss Luxord's jaw, neck, shoulder, ears, anything he could get his teeth on. "You can't order me around."

Soon Xigbar's belt joined the other one on the floor. "You know that doesn't mean a damn thing."

"Whatever." Xigbar had stopped moving his hands, and the glare Luxord gave him sent gleeful shivers up his spine. "Hey, I better be getting something for my efforts."

"We don't have any lube here, you know," Luxord said, rubbing a hand against Xigbar's growing erection.

"And you know I don't fucking care," came the other man's hoarse reply. "I've been through worse. I'm not a damn fairy princess."

Luxord smirked, pushing Xigbar back so that he was partially sitting on the table, pants half-off (not that Xigbar seemed to care about that either). "Could have fooled me."

Xigbar didn't bother gracing that with a reply, merely attempting to situate himself more comfortably on the table. Luxord, on the other hand, began sucking on his fingers, grinning as Xigbar let out another excited growl at the sight.

"So don't come complaining to me when you're all torn up and sore later," Luxord told him, taking his fingers from his mouth.

"Oh, I won't come complaining, that's for sure," Xigbar rejoined, grinning. "Ah!" He groaned as Luxord slipped a finger into him, wrapping his legs tighter around Luxord's waist (the pants now fully off, or that would have been rather undoable).

"That was a horrible joke, Xigbar. Honestly," Luxord sighed, adding another finger, savoring the feeling of Xigbar's hands on his arms and ignoring the fact that he'd probably have bruises there to match the ones on his neck.

A third finger now, and Xigbar was nearly ready to strangle Luxord if he didn't get it over with. Amused (but silently agreeing, though not on the strangling bit), Luxord removed his fingers, grasping Xigbar's hip once more with a hand as he entered him.

He started off slowly, out of some long-forgotten habit or whatnot, but Xigbar's impatience was not to be trifled with. At Xigbar's encouragement — "Fuck harder, you bastard, damn it, yes" — Luxord's thrusts became more hurried, more forceful. Despite himself, Luxord couldn't help but moan Xigbar's name, even though the idiot didn't need any more of a swelled head. (Oh, the puns.)

Fortunately, Xigbar returned the moaning in kind, so it wasn't anything they could use against each other, unless Xigbar wanted to bring up an argument of whose sex talk sounded more girly. Pleased, Luxord shifted a hand so that he could stroke Xigbar's throbbing cock, eliciting even more groans of contentment from the other man.

"Luxord," Xigbar managed to grunt without too much trouble.

"What?" Luxord gasped out after a particularly well placed thrust. "Don't tell me you're — already — "

But it was no use, as with a final jerk, Luxord came, setting his head down on Xigbar's shoulder as the latter followed suit. Luxord pulled away slowly, face slick with sweat as well as the remnants of seawater. There was silence for several moments, aside from their heavy breathing, until at last Xigbar grinned.

"And you were about to make fun of me for coming first."

Luxord groaned, pushing Xigbar back flat against the table. "I can't wait to get back to Port Royal and be rid of you."

"You know how I just love anticipating your return," Xigbar replied, still grinning smugly.

"Get a job, you lazy arse."

Xigbar propped himself up on an elbow, looking Luxord in the eye. "Maybe I will."

"Come again?"

"I thought you were tired — "

"_Xigbar_."

The dark-haired Nobody snickered. "Maybe I will see what Xemnas needs done off-world."

Luxord looked down at Xigbar questioningly. "Why the sudden change of mind?"

"So that I don't have to sit around and wait for you, for once."

Xigbar burst out laughing at that, and Luxord scowled at him, but the Gambler of Fate couldn't help but feel a little bit pleased at the thought.


	5. Qualities

**Rating: **PG  
**Prompt: **Create _(anyone can destroy, but this is much harder)_  
**Characters: **Luxord, Vexen  
**Summary: **Hearts are nothing without personality.  
**Originally Written: **09/04/08

**A/N:** Just some random speculation. I have no idea where I was going with it.

* * *

**Qualities**

It had been Xemnas's idea, that Luxord help Vexen out with some experiments in the lab. Needless to say, Vexen didn't quite approve of the situation; he already had Zexion to assist him, and anyway, what did this man who had barely been a Nobody for long know about hearts and the science thereof?

Though Luxord yet indeed knew little of hearts, it turned out that his talent with time won him over with Vexen far quicker than he had imagined it would take.

Solutions and mixtures that needed to sit for several hours were done in an instant. Reactions were slow down while copious notes were taken. Luxord was fairly certain that Vexen still thought of him as nothing more than a portable lab instrument, and sitting there controlling time around little vials of bubbly goo wasn't the most interesting thing to be doing. Nevertheless, he complied with his superior's wishes, a handy tool that nodded occasionally and smiled as Vexen talked science at him.

It had only been about a week before Vexen began collecting actual hearts. Luxord held one in his hand, the sparkling object floating in a glass jar. It seemed like the slightest movement would make the crystalline looking item shatter into tiny pieces.

Unfortunately for Vexen (and subsequently, Luxord), the scientist's plans for these hearts didn't go exactly as he wanted.

"Why won't it work?" Vexen muttered for the sixth time since they had begun the experimentation an hour ago. "Time is an omnipotent presence — it could possibly be the world itself, interrupting — "

Luxord had long since learned to tune Vexen out at times like these. Instead he continued to inspect the jar in his hands, watching the heart bump gently against the sides as he tilted it back and forth.

"Perhaps it means that you cannot use science to work with hearts," Luxord said at last, tapping the jar lid. Vexen looked over at the other man, expression skeptical.

"It's worked perfectly well until now," he replied confidently. "I see no reason why your powers would fail to affect the subject."

Luxord was silent for a moment, holding up the jar and staring at it. No matter what he had done, sped time up or reversed it or stopped it completely, the heart hadn't changed. This went against everything his Other had learned when he was alive; all those silly sayings about time affecting love and the like. Real emotions altered over time, or so he had been led to believe. Very rarely did he come across a person who had such an unchanging range of emotions.

"A heart by itself is useless," he said aloud at last, peering over the top of the jar at Vexen. The latter didn't interrupt him with objections as he normally did, however, so Luxord continued. "By itself every heart is the same: a blank slate. You need personality and individual qualities to change a heart."

Vexen raised an eyebrow, contemplating. "I see where you are coming from. But applied to the situation at hand — "

"That is why it will not change when I work with it. There is nothing to work with. It's quite easy to ruin a heart by ripping it out of the person who made it worthwhile." Luxord set the jar down lightly. "Of course, I assume a particularly strong heart would yield more results, such as is needed to create a Nobody," he added as an afterthought.

Vexen smiled thinly. "Then that is what we shall get our hands on."

Luxord sighed quietly. Hopefully his lead would bring about some suitable outcome; he didn't know how much more of Vexen's complaints he could tolerate.


	6. New Games

**Rating: **G  
**Prompt: **Devotion _(faith as sweet as a promise, sharp as a knife)_  
**Characters: **Luxord, Xigbar, Axel, Larxene  
**Summary: **You can only play so many rounds of poker before you want to strangle someone.  
**Originally Written: **11/27/08

**A/N: **These four are like the ultimate BFFs in my book. Well, the most snarky BFFs at least.

**

* * *

**

**New Games**

"You're not cheating." Larxene eyed Luxord suspiciously as the realization hit her. Luxord smiled pleasantly over the cards in his hand. "What trick do you have up your sleeve now?"

"I thought you just decided that I was not cheating," Luxord replied smoothly.

Xigbar let out a sharp laugh. "Like we believe you."

On Luxord's other side, Axel let out an exaggerated sigh. "Don't be such sore losers," he groaned, tossing an arm around Luxord's shoulders. "Can't you just acknowledge the man's natural talent?"

Luxord turned his smile from Larxene to Axel, moving his cards out of view of the redhead's prying eyes. "A sentiment better expressed were you yourself not trying to cheat. Very poorly, might I add."

"S'all in good fun," Axel muttered, sitting back in his seat. Larxene punched him good-naturedly in the shoulder.

"Until someone loses an eye, right?" She laughed, easily dodging the card that Xigbar flicked in her direction. "Xigbar has a queen of hearts, if anyone would like to know."

"Ooh, I'll trade that for my three," Axel offered, taking the fallen card and tossing out a new one.

Luxord sighed, setting down his hand. "I suppose the game has devolved into a round of Presidents."

"We can play Ratscrew, if you'd like," Axel suggested, and Larxene laughed again, materializing a dagger and stabbing it into the center of the table.

"With weapons."

"On second thought…"

"How about Go Fish while we're at it?" Luxord said, rolling his eyes.

Xigbar tossed his cards onto the table. "You're just grumpy that we don't want to play poker anymore."

"I am not grumpy. Poker — "

"Is pretty much all _luck_," Larxene drawled, twirling a card in her fingers. "Which if you hadn't noticed, you seem to have the most of. Even if you aren't cheating. Supposedly."

"Oh, you just want to play Ratscrew because you'll win," Xigbar muttered.

"And you're afraid of your disadvantage with one eye," Axel pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest. "Obviously the only solution is Spoons."

An emphatically resounding chorus of "no" followed Axel's statement.

"Old Maid?" Axel proposed facetiously, and Larxene punched him in the shoulder again.

"You can only play so many rounds of poker before you want to strangle someone," she lamented.

Xigbar snorted. "You're too attached to poker, buddy," he told Luxord, stretching his arms over his head. "We need a new hobby. Like paintball or something."

Luxord just smiled at them, picking up all the cards with a wave of his hand. They'd understand someday. Sometimes there are old things you have that you just can't bear to get rid of.


	7. Pigeon

**Rating: **G  
**Prompt: **Guide _(take it step by step, one foot then the other)_  
**Characters: **Luxord, Naminé  
**Summary: **You don't always realize what you have until it goes away.  
**Originally Written: **05/01/09

**A/N: **Written for **tunasaladsonnet** on LJ. She totally made me friend!ship these two. Naminé's nickname/the title came from Tuna's wonderful writing. Happy birthday, love. I don't think I did these two justice but I hope you like it.

* * *

**Pigeon**

Luxord was the first person she met that didn't call her a name. Larxene didn't bother hiding her disdain; Axel gave her nicknames out of amusement, but they're still unwanted all the same; and Marluxia — she learned very quickly to feel uneasy when Marluxia came near. But Luxord was different. She didn't get to talk to others very much, but she could tell something wasn't quite right.

"Why don't you call me anything?"

Luxord looked up from the drawing he was inspecting, an old doodle of Naminé's that featured a cat pawing a fishbowl. "I do call you something. Naminé."

Naminé shook her head, setting down her crayon. "Everyone else calls me names." She glanced away. "Some of them not very nice."

Setting aside the paper, Luxord walked over to stand beside Naminé's chair. He didn't comment on how she shied away almost unconsciously. "Xemnas doesn't call you names."

"Xemnas doesn't call me _anything_," Naminé replied. "He doesn't talk to me."

Luxord smiled faintly. "You have a point." He paused, taking a moment to inspect what she had been drawing. The beginnings of some sort of decrepit castle. He would have to ask Axel where Naminé was getting her inspiration from at some point soon.

"Is it a bad thing that I do not call you names?"

"You call me by _my_ name."

He glanced over to find her staring at him. It was rather disconcerting. "Naminé?" She nodded. "It's only proper to address a lady by her preferred name. It takes quite a lot to earn my disrespect."

Naminé looked like she didn't know whether to be flattered or annoyed at being called a "lady."

"Ladies don't make friends with bad guys," she said at last, and Luxord glanced up sharply, eyebrows raised in surprise. His expression softened when he saw that she was smiling. "Don't worry, I can tell you're not a bad guy. Not like…" She trailed off, and Luxord could only guess who she was thinking of. He quashed the instinct to figure out who it was and go shake them down. Strange.

Smiling, Luxord stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I don't think you can call someone who kills for hearts _not_ a bad guy."

Naminé bit her lip. "You're not bad. You're desperate."

Luxord stared at her and wondered how one girl still so new to the world could psychoanalyze half the Organization in five minutes.

*

"I think 'bad' is strictly subjective," Naminé told him at a later meeting, after Luxord had returned from an off world mission that had lasted far too long for his tastes.

"I just sent a world into total darkness," Luxord replied, sitting down tiredly at the small white table in Naminé's room.

"Bad people don't bring little girls souvenirs," Naminé retorted, lightly fingering the leather-bound sketchbook on her lap like it was a precious gem. "Particularly before they even clean up." She pointed to her own temple, and Luxord touched a hand to his head, crumbles of dried dirt falling at the contact. Smirking, he rubbed the caked dirt from his face.

"Touché. So, is it suitable?"

"Mm?"

Luxord gestured lazily at the book. "Your gift."

"Oh." Naminé glanced down at the object in her hands. "I've never gotten a gift before, I can't really say — "

"A simple 'yes' will suffice."

Looking embarrassed, Naminé nodded. "Thank you."

Luxord watched Naminé turn the book over in her hands, marveling at the detailed binding. "How about this: a charming young lady like you deserves a gift or two, and I've always been fond of giving them."

"You have?"

Luxord smiled wryly. "I have memories of being fond, anyway. Technicalities. The point is that I'll bring you something when I can, hm?"

Naminé smiled, a clear, genuine smile, and Luxord decided that he wanted to see that smile again.

*

More white. It was white wherever she went. But it suited her.

"Will you still visit me?" Naminé asked him, smiling, but Luxord could hear the lack of hope in her voice. She was never good at hiding her emotions, as unreal as they were.

"We must be realistic, love," Luxord replied, opening a hand and conjuring a deck of cards. "I doubt the Superior will appreciate my idling away here. Pick a card?"

Naminé bit her lip, muffling a giggle. "You hypocrite." She gaily picked a card from the bottom. "I don't mean a lot. Just, you know." She paused. "A visit."

The unspoken 'to check up on me' practically echoed in the silence. Luxord understood the unease all too well. Xemnas couldn't have picked a more unfortunate bunch to assign Naminé to.

"I shall certainly try my best," Luxord told her, the empty promise not going unnoticed. He took Naminé's card and tucked it back into the deck. "Don't forget you have a job to do as well."

Naminé looked away, eyes downcast. "Yes."

"Chin up, pigeon," Luxord chided, shuffling the deck with a wave of his other hand, and Naminé glanced up, surprised.

"You called me 'pigeon.'"

Luxord, for possibly the first time in this life, was hesitant. "I'm sorry, love, I was just on a world where this woman — "

"N-no," Naminé interrupted, shaking her head, "I like it. It's strange, but I like it."

She gave him a smile, that one painfully real smile that had over time come to give him this strange semblance of hope, and he said nothing. There was nothing he could say to that, as eloquent as he was. Instead, he spread the cards over the long, white table. Naminé ran her hands across the backs, feeling them lightly. Finally, she picked up one from the middle, the memory of it resonating in her fingertips. She flipped it towards him.

"This would be a much more impressive trick if you were the one that did it," she told him, giggling.

"I'm just here for the show." Luxord snapped his fingers, all the cards but Naminé's disappearing. He tapped it with a gloved hand. "Keep it."

She flipped it back over, so the face showed, confirming it as the card she had pulled in the beginning. A single red heart was bright against the stark white of the room.

"You sap," she muttered, and tucked the card into her sketchbook. Maybe she wouldn't mind one person calling her by a nickname. It was sort of cute.


End file.
